


Calling in Back-up

by celeste9



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 13:38:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5745859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha had seen a lot of weird shit in her time. Aliens, gods that were actually aliens, serums that turned scrawny boys into specimens of male physical perfection, men who changed into giant green rage monsters, Tony Stark… But this was a new one, even for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Calling in Back-up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tarlan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/gifts).



> For tarlanx in fandom stocking.

Natasha had seen a lot of weird shit in her time. Aliens, gods that were actually aliens, serums that turned scrawny boys into specimens of male physical perfection, men who changed into giant green rage monsters, Tony Stark…

But this was a new one, even for her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Did you just say you’re a ghost hunter?”

“Technically I said I was a hunter,” the guy said. Winchester, Dean. The intel on him (and his brother) was insane. Police records with charges of everything from grave robbing to murder, not to mention multiple conflicting reports of his own death. “You’re the one who added the ghost part. Not that it’s inaccurate, but, you know. I hunt a lot more than ghosts, luckily for you, it seems. Also you’re even hotter in person than on TV, which I actually thought was impossible.”

Natasha declined to dignify that with a response. She could kick this guy’s ass without breaking a sweat. Though, he might actually like that.

“So,” he said. “Nick told me you had a problem? My sort of problem?”

As soon as this was dealt with, Natasha was getting the full story from Fury. She knew his list of contacts was even more impressive than hers, but having a Ghostbuster on speed dial was another matter entirely.

“It’s trapped in my bedroom,” Natasha told him. “Fury said you’d know what to do with it.”

“Wasn’t any need for all this planning if all you wanted was to get me in your bedroom,” Dean said, but he walked over to the back of his car, an old Impala kept in spectacular condition.

Natasha followed him and watched him open up the trunk, which turned out to be an arsenal. Guns, knives, crosses, bottles of holy water, salt… Natasha wasn’t sure what half of it would be good for but the half she did know was deadly.

“I can handle it,” Dean said, closing it up again. “Sounded like a lamia from what Nick told me. Been a while, but you don’t forget that kind of thing. I’ll follow you.”

-

Tony was waiting in the hall when they arrived. “Think the tranqs wore off,” he told Natasha. “You might wanna find an alternate sleeping arrangement tonight, until we get some repairs done. The penthouse--”

“Nice try,” Natasha said, brushing past him.

“That was Tony Stark,” Dean said, lengthening his strides to catch up to her. “Sam is gonna be so jealous. Think he’d give me an autograph? ‘To Sam, the biggest nerd I know’. Actually, maybe two. He can sign mine as Iron Man.”

Natasha ignored him. As if Tony needed any more inflating of his ego.

She could hear the lamia - if that was what it was - banging around inside her room as they approached, the sounds growing louder the closer they got. She mourned silently for her interior decorating.

“Guns and knives don’t work,” Natasha told Dean as they stood inside the sitting room of her apartments in the Tower. The lamia seemed to be throwing itself against her bedroom door down the hall. “I was going to try fire next but Tony wouldn’t let me.”

“It might take fire,” Dean said. “Not just fire, though, that wouldn’t have killed it. Needs to be doused in rosemary and salt first.” He patted his jacket, where Natasha had seen him place a bag of herbs.

“What do you do, eat it?”

Dean grinned. “Nah, but it’d like to eat your heart. You got hairspray?”

“In the bathroom.”

“Cool, show me.”

Natasha led Dean to the bathroom, the noise getting ever louder as they neared the connecting door to the bedroom. She pulled out a bottle of hairspray from under the sink. “Makeshift flamethrower?”

“Makeshift flamethrower,” Dean confirmed. “You hold onto that. We’ll try silver before fire though, didn’t work last time but, hey, I live in hope.” He brandished a knife. “Blessed by a priest and everything.”

“Okay, Buffy, get ready.” Natasha paused with her hand on the doorknob, holding a second silver knife Dean had offered her.

“Ready when you are, Black Widow,” Dean said, looking thrilled to be using her codename.

Natasha rolled her eyes at him. It figured Fury would know the supernatural hunter who was also a giant dork. One… two… three. She opened the door.

The creature was on the other side of the room, still trying to get through the door that led into the hallway. The whole room was a mess, broken glass, books on the floor, and there were large claw marks all down the wooden door.

“Definitely a lamia,” Dean muttered, as they both charged at the thing.

Natasha got in a good swipe before the lamia turned to face them, screeching high enough to make Natasha’s eardrums hurt. Blood dripped down from the slash but the lamia barely seemed to notice, throwing Natasha back against the wall.

She grunted in pain and crumpled to the floor, blinking to clear her head. When next she looked up, Dean had actually managed to plunge his knife straight into where the lamia’s heart must have been.

He stared at the knife, and then up at the lamia. It screeched again and smacked Dean across the face, knocking him aside.

“Fire it is,” he said, and tossed a lighter to Natasha.

The lamia was charging at her and while its focus was on her, Dean threw the contents of his little herb bag all over its back. Natasha scrambled aside, fumbling with the lighter and the hairspray until she got a roaring flame started, aiming it at the lamia’s center of mass.

It screamed as the fire began to engulf it, and Natasha crawled away, back towards Dean. Pressed together against the still closed door, they watched until the lamia fell, twitching.

Dean threw a blanket over the remains of the body to snuff out any lingering flames, the smell of the charred flesh nauseating. “Stark said he’d pay for the repairs, right?” he asked, toeing at the burned carpet.

“He’d better give me a whole new set of rooms,” Natasha said, and leaned her head back against the door.

Yeah, this had definitely been a new one.

**_End_ **


End file.
